


It was long, your message

by glovered



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, butt-dialing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glovered/pseuds/glovered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Sam's ass betrayed them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was long, your message

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deirdre_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_c/gifts).



Sam's old phone was a Blackberry. It was sleek and black, a magic brick that had saved the world that one time.

And this is how his new phone set them back a few:

"A god's a god's a god," Bobby was telling them. He had ten books set out in front of him and an untouched plate of pie that had gone hard ten hours ago. "They're wrathful and capricious. Cas said he was set on punishing Raphael's followers, so it's looking like he ain't gonna be much different, and I don't think running away really helped our case, neither."

"Right," Dean said. "So what you're saying is, Cas is more Old Testament, none of this New Testament love and forgiveness shtick."

"Seems that way."

"That or he's not God at all," Sam said. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable even bringing it up but someone had to say it. "Look, we know Cas. He's all about good intentions, and he's become increasingly focused on smiting all wrong-doers, even before the souls. Maybe he's on his way to becoming the next Lucifer."

Dean cut in quick. "Sam, don't you dare think about Lucifer."

Sam thought about Lucifer.

"If the shoe fits, right?" Bobby muttered. "Devil wears fucking Prada."

The silence that settled was broken only by the slosh of whiskey into two more glasses, and the quiet sound of Sam paging through an old book. It was four in the afternoon, and they were holed up in a chilly, two-storey Victorian in Maine, the property abandoned and graffitied out the ass with sigils and traps, run round with holy oil that could be lit in a second where angels daren't tread. The weather was clear and sharp and was like their one good thing by which to measure all the shit.

With some reticence, Sam finally said, "so it looks like we've got three options: first option, we run..."

"Not gonna happen," Dean said.

"Two, we track down Jesse...."

Bobby whistled through his teeth. "The Antichrist?”

“What is he, eleven years old?” Dean said. “And we'd have a hell of a time tracking him down. The kid can zap himself to the other side of the planet in a second.”

“Well,” Bobby said. “He did turn Cas into an action figure that one time, so maybe—”

“We're not turning Cas into anything.”

"Or, option three," Sam continued, although it was stupid to even mention it because then Dean would probably go ahead and do it. "Talk to Death."

"Those are some big guns," Dean said.

Bobby nodded. "Too big. And I think we've called in one too many favors as is."

"I'd have to agree," Sam said. "Which means maybe option one—"

Dean was studiously examining the bottom of his empty glass when he said, "there is...I mean, there is a fourth option."

"Mind sharing, then? Because from where I'm sitting, this all looks like a lost cause."

"It's supposed to work, at least," Dean said. "But I don't—although I doubt it would—"

He was hesitating in a way which cracked Sam into three parts: one hope, the other two dread. "You didn't, Dean."

Dean clenched his jaw like he'd been offended on many levels, and he said, voice harsh, "I couldn't just leave it there, Sammy. Not after everything."

Sam huffed out a breath, smiling something secret for the both of them, because it figured, it really did. "I guess I knew that."

"You boys mind telling me what in the heck you're waffling about?"

In answer, Dean reached into the duffel bag he had open by the couch. Sam held his breath while Dean rummaged around under the clothes and books, and felt his chest constrict in ways he didn't know it still could when Dean sat back with a necklace dangling from his fingers. They watched it swing like a broken pendulum, before Dean curled it around and into his fist.

"Well, it's something."

"Nope, still don't get it," Bobby said.

"It burns hot in God's presence," Sam explained. "Cas even said so himself once, although it didn't work when he tried to use it. And Dean's been...Dean used to wear it, ever since we were kids."

"You wanna explain why you have that exactly?" But then Bobby sighed, and sat back in his chair, hands up. "You know what, it's not even worth delving into. Lord works in mysterious ways, and all that. Anyhow, if Cas said so himself, I'd call it a solid lead. As solid as we've got."

Dean looked modestly pleased, tentatively hopeful. He met Sam's eyes from the couch. "Think it'll work?"

"I'd say let's give it a shot."

The tension banked a bit now that they had some semblance of an idea, even if it wasn't a very good one. Bobby went to the kitchen to make them sandwiches and Sam said, "It didn't work before, Dean. And I wondered why. I've always kind of suspected that maybe God wasn't answering not because he'd left the building, but because God was more of a spiritual thing. God is love or whatever."

Dean smirked at him. "Oh yeah? God is love?"

As if out of the very air, a voice said, "Yes, I am. And I've asked you to love me in return."

The world jerked to a halt. Sam and Dean both quit breathing and the room went silent save for the rustling of Bobby in the kitchen.

Dean finally asked, eyes wide, "Did that—did that just come out of your ass?"

Sam felt something akin to horror sludging in his soul, a growing fear. He didn't want to look, but he had to, so he yanked his phone out of his back pocket where he'd been—fuck, where he'd been sitting on it. He looked at the screen.

CASTIEL  
mins. 5:53

Castiel's voice came again through the speaker: "Hello? Sam? Dean?"

Pause.

"I heard you talking," Cas said. "Thank you for calling. Where are you?"  



End file.
